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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861786">Balance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineLady91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes'>White Queen Writes (DivineLady91)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crowley Drops the Book [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Crowley must pay, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, M/M, aziraphale loves his books, but still, just the ramblings of an ineffable bdsm expert, mention of oral sex, not more than his husband, predicament torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineLady91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has a bad habit of messing around in the bookshop, specifically rearranging the books on Aziraphale's shelves. This time, he's gone to far, and because of his actions, someone almost purchased something! And now ... Crowley needs to be punished.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crowley Drops the Book [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Balance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you would like to see what happens when Crowley drops a book, let me know in the comments ;) If you do, the rating on this will bump up to E.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How many times have I told you … <em>grrr!</em> … not to re-arrange … <em>mmph</em> … my books!? I have a <em>system</em>!” Aziraphale lectures as he stacks book after book onto the flattened palms of Crowley’s upturned hands. And not just any books. Thick, antique, leather-bound texts, each weighing only slightly less than a kilo a piece, straining Crowley’s outstretched arms with the addition of each one. But Crowley is a passably strong demon. Even inside Aziraphale’s bookshop, where the angel’s powers (along with an extensive collection of holy artifacts and talismans, some lifted from the Vatican itself) work well to dial down the potency of Crowley’s magic, his corporeal form handles the weight quite nicely. Not until Aziraphale adds the sixth book do his biceps begin to quiver. “You, my dear, are, without a doubt, a <em>nightmare.” </em>Aziraphale stands back, examines the two stacks to see if they’re equal, then chooses a slim paperback to even out the left. “An unmitigated <em>nightmare</em>.”</p><p>“Not at all,” Crowley says, determined to remain smug no matter what his angel throws his way. “You and I simply differ in opinion on organizational tactics.”</p><p>“No, we differ in opinion on the concept of you keeping your scaly hands to yourself!”</p><p>Crowley smirks, a remark about how angel didn’t complain last night when he couldn’t keep his hands to himself lingering at the pointed tips of his bifurcated tongue. “Is it my fault if you’re not open to new ways of cataloging your collection?” He attempts a nonchalant shrug and nearly tips his lot, which he knows, regardless of how much he feels at liberty to tease Aziraphale, would be the gravest mistake. “Besides, the way I see it, you should be thanking me.”</p><p><em>“Thanking you?”</em> Aziraphale snaps, the pearlescent heat of Grace bleeding through his blue eyes.</p><p>“Yes, thanking me,” Crowley insufferably repeats. “<em>My</em> system makes it much more difficult for anyone to find anything in here.”</p><p>“Exactly! Which is why the last three customers stayed twice as long as normal … <em>browsing</em>! I almost sold something today, and it’s all your fault!” Aziraphale punctuates that accusation by dropping one last book onto the pile on Crowley’s right, burdening the weaker of his two arms. “I think you do these things on purpose to watch my blood pressure go through the ceiling!”</p><p>“Which would be a feat if you actual <em>had</em> blood pressure to worry about,” Crowley claps back underneath his breath.</p><p>Aziraphale gives his husband a severe once over, inhaling a cleansing breath through his nose, then letting it out through tightly pursed lips. “No matter. The bookshop has been set right again. Now there’s only one final issue to attend to.”</p><p>“Really.” Crowley sniffs, pretending the weight threatening to collapse his arms is of no consequence to him. “And wot’s that?”</p><p>Aziraphale takes another deep breath. He lets it out and his face relaxes, a grin replacing the scowl he’d been wearing for over an hour as he re-stacked his shelves by hand, opting to do the work manually since magic, even holy magic, scuffs the spines.</p><p>Or so Aziraphale claims. Crowley tends to believe Aziraphale gets his jollies manhandling his first editions, reading with his angelic third eye the signatures of the hands that have touched them before.</p><p>Revisiting old loves.</p><p>“Your punishment.” Aziraphale walks the room, searching high and low for the item he needs. <em>Will he be moving on to bricks next?</em> Crowley wonders in amusement. <em>Or furniture perhaps? </em>Aziraphale lets out an <em>Ah-ha!</em> of triumph when he finds it. He grabs an overstuffed, burgundy-velvet pillow, pulling it from beneath a pile of papers, and carries it over to where Crowley stands, both arms visibly distressed as he struggles to maintain the weight. But he’ll play along, see where Aziraphale intends on taking this.</p><p>Crowley thought that after 6,000 years he knew his angel inside and out. Little did he realize that the part of him that linked them together - the part that occasionally did Crowley’s tempting - could be more wicked, more sadistic than Crowley ever was.</p><p>“Those books you are holding are all first editions.” Aziraphale drops the pillow at Crowley’s feet. It lands with a muffled <em>t</em><em>whump! </em>on the wooden floor. He lowers himself onto it, eyes locked on his husband’s amber gaze even as he comes within sight of the bulge stressing the front of Crowley’s trousers. “Not only that, they’re the only ones of their kind in existence. Now, you’re going to recount the deeds of the day, my dear. And keep those up,” he commands, undoing the buckle to Crowley’s belt, slowly lowering his zip, “while I keep <em>this</em> up.” Aziraphale giggles. He does love innuendo. “Don’t let those books fall, or <em>else.</em>”</p><p>“Or else wot?” Crowley’s voice shakes around an audible gulp as Aziraphale peels his trousers down his legs, stopping at his thighs. Aziraphale’s gaze leaves his husband’s face to focus on his cock. He chuckles darkly, wrapping his fingers around it and going straight for the jugular, stroking exactly the way he knows Crowley enjoys best. Crowley’s knees buckle, the bitten off gasp of a moan escaping his lips and falling to Aziraphale’s ears. <em>Tsk, tsk,</em> Aziraphale thinks, mentally shaking his head. <em>And here we’ve barely gotten started. </em>“Believe me when I tell you, my dear … you don’t want to find out.”</p>
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